Alfie: Vengeance is mine!

24 Feb

Those of you in the great mass of people who read Sumpnado regularly probably don’t always open each individual posting that we do in order to read the comments that have been added.

I know that this must be so because, for as long as I’ve been contributing anyway, the only comments made have been by one of we three site administrators and I’m sure that SOMEONE out there MUST have at some time had a response to make to those comments! If, of course, they had been reading them!

What I’m trying to get at is that if you haven’t been reading the comments then you missed the fascinating response by my colleague, Vincent, to my recent piece about the railway viaduct across Spring Road, Ipswich. In his response (which was damn near as long as my original piece, if not longer) he detailed how he took revenge on the householder who “grassed him up” for taking a photograph from a long way up a very high railway embankment by “remotely” signing him up to a number of Book, etcetera, Clubs that would have been difficult and inconvenient to get out of.

This got me thinking of ways that I have taken satisfying, if trivial, revenge on those who have crossed me in some way over the years.

When it comes to violent physical responses to those who have trespassed against me, count me out!  I am the most fearful wimp and prefer to do any fighting with my wits!

This began in 1975 when the bloke who went off with my first wife received a large and pungent delivery of best Horse manure in his front garden! Don’t get me wrong I didn’t particularly want him to bring her back – I just wanted him to know how displeased I was that he wasn’t now going to fix my motorbike engine and I was having to get the BUS everywhere! He was actually an Agricultural Engineer and now I think about it he might just have enjoyed having a spot of “country air” round the place! Damn! Too late now!

There were, over the next few years a few “team efforts” by some of my Barclays colleagues and I (in Norwich a right-wing and rather uppity Manager unknowingly applied for Labour Party membership with the Chairman of the local Conservative Club – of which he was already a member – given as a reference) but nothing major of an individual nature until 1998.

It was then that Barclays sold my Department to a fledgling Financial Services Company which decided after only a few months of trading to cut costs by clearing out 20 or so of the most experienced people. My Manager, a first class member of the Order of the Brown Tongue, told me candidly that while he would try to save as many of us as he could he had no intention of jeopardising the highly paid Senior role HE had already been promised. None were saved!

For some reason they left me kicking my heels in my IT Liaison job for about two weeks after the redundancies were announced so I had time to think of a couple of things!

On my last day I made “certain changes” to the Standard Letter system (you could create a letter by choosing  from a library of approved paragraphs) that was one of my responsibilities with the result that the next time the Manager in question printed out such a letter he didn’t get what he expected!

Instead of “B. S****, Senior Manager” as a signature box he got “B. S**** is a total shit!” and I gather I had already been gone some weeks before he found out!

Oh and I also left a number of ripe oranges and bananas locked in my desk drawer and went off with the only two keys to it! Fish would have been better but I understand they still had to scrap that drawer unit after a week or two!

Since then I have only taken small token acts of revenge for redundancies – on leaving my first proper IT job I added the name of their biggest customer to the list of “banned words” in the email filter software and on departing my last full-time role with the company in administration I changed all the admin passwords on the servers and omitted to tell the idiot accountants winding up the business what they were.

Minor stuff really; I think I must be losing my edge!

I DID nearly come unstuck with one verbal act of defiance in 1976. I had been celebrating my 23rd birthday in the amiable company of a lady from the Ipswich 18 Plus club and was walking home across town at about 2 am, full of the joys of Spring and a bottle of wine, when I was stopped by two patrolling Policewomen. They wanted to know where I was going (which I told them) and then where I’d been.

“I’ve been with a lady and please don’t ask where she lives” I replied (thinking I was being a “Gentleman”).

“And why is that then?”

Enter a little Imp into my mellow mood!

“Well, her husband’s a Policeman!” is what came out (untruthfully as it happens).

Fortunately they both roared with laughter and told me to get off home but that could have been nasty!

Alfie

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2 Responses to “Alfie: Vengeance is mine!”

  1. Vincent February 25, 2011 at 6:02 am #

    I’m glad to see I’m not the ONLY Brit who uses his BRAIN to exact revenge, instead of his FISTS – which sadly seems to be the more acceptable method, in today’s Britain.

    Schadenfreude is COOLER – but then those people couldn’t SPELL it! (No more could I, had I not checked it on Wordweb!)

  2. Vincent February 25, 2011 at 6:04 am #

    Oh – and t’other day – I actually got a comment from someone out there who WASN’T one of us!

    It’s a start…

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